Consequences
by Channel Jumper
Summary: Italy's experience at the event of the Holocaust, trying to be strong, even if his little Italian heart can't take it. One-shot about Holocaust. Rated T for dark event of WWII.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and history.**

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**Death**

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_Was this really right?_

Italy wanted to close his eyes, his sore eyes red with fatigue, smelling something fowl in the air. Flesh. Rotting flesh.

He was in his military uniform, looking pained at piles of dead bodies, showing faces of different reactions of death. Germans were taking the bodies into trenches, or taking them into camps for burning procedures. Italy felt tears in his eyes as he saw a little girl's body in one of the piles, showing fear on her face. She wore dirty clothes, and her eyes were wide, blank.

Italy wanted to cry for the little girl, for every person killed, and it hurt to see the line of people walking to a nearby extermination camp, waiting for their death. Italy wondered what made Germany do this, he knew that Hitler ordered him to do his job, but Germany seemed more cold, willing to kill for the right or wrong. Italy knew what he's doing...was wrong.

_Why Germany?_

Italy wanted to cry right there, but he knew that it couldn't do anything, it wouldn't stop the deaths of many innocents. Italy wondered why he even helped Germany with this. _Oh yeah,_ he thought, giving a sad smile. _My-a boss wanted some-a land, and we didn't think about-a the consequences._ Italy wanted to cry, sob, but not here, it's just too much.

He heard small footsteps, so soft that he almost didn't hear it. He looked at the person who was coming up to him. It was Romano, his brother. He had a brown military uniform, looking at the piles of dead bodies in pain and guilt, his eyes showing a dull amber color. Italy couldn't deny the anger and sadness in those eyes, since those eyes were once filled with an Italian, fighting spirit, but now, it is lost.

Romano's furrowed eyebrows narrowed, and his teeth grit at the line of people, who were now lining up for the gas chamber. Romano wasn't giving any direct contact to Italy, and Italy now felt that his brother will hate him for seeing the innocent people getting killed. _He will,_ Italy thought with sadness. _He will._

He jumped when he noticed Romano was looking at him, his face filled with melancholy. Italy frowned, and looked at his feet, not wanting to look at his older brother. This war was complicating their, no, everyone's lives, and Italy just wants to breakdown in front of Romano.

"Fratello," Romano's voice sounded, but Italy didn't look at him, his boots now more interesting than his brother. "Fratello!" Italy flinched at Romano's shout for his attention, and he reluctantly looked at him. He was in the same condition as him. He wore a wary glance, having dirtier clothes in mud and blood, and his eyes still had the same sadness and regret. _It almost seems like he's going to cry,_ Italy thought.

He was right. It was surprising when it happened. Romano seemed to shake, and his eyes were holding more regret, sadness, and...amounts of guilt. He began to sob, hugging himself for comfort, looking away from the dead bodies. Italy widened his eyes that some tears were silently falling from him as well, and Italy just looked with sympathy at Romano, deciding to embrace him for comfort. Italy knew his pain, and he hoped Germany would share it as well.

"Don't-a worry Romano, everything will-a be alright," Italy said, patting his back. Italy frowned a little at the half-truth he spoke out. He didn't know if it will be all right in the end, but he needed to be strong. Romano seemed to try to talk, but it all came at as a bigger sob, and Italy was not surprised anymore. Romano then pushed away from Italy's embrace, and Italy let go, looking at Romano with sympathy.

"Don't look at-a me with that look little brother," Romano said bitterly, looking at the now short line of the gas chamber. "I'm-a going home. Tell the potato bastard I'm-a staying out of this." He began to walk away, but then he stopped, and looked at Italy with a grimace. "And I-a hope you stay out of this as well Veneziano." Then he walked away, leaving Italy to his thoughts.

_I can't stop this Romano. I don't even know how._

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**A/N: I hoped you like this. I just wanted to make this little one-shot, because of reading about the Holocaust. I really wanted Italy to actually think about the consequences, and feel strong through the event. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.**


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